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It’s showtime! Alright, listen up, pal, findin’ a prostitute ain’t no picnic, lemme tell ya! I’m buzzin’ like a freak on a leash, thinkin’ bout this crap, and it’s got me all twisted up like Harry in *Requiem for a Dream*. Ya know, "We got a winner!"—but nah, not really, ‘cause this game’s messed up! I’m Beetlejuice, baby, I see the grime others miss—like that chick on the corner, heels clickin’, eyes hollowed out like Sara’s dope dreams gone bust.

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Then, around 8 PM, the place gets packed. I’m running around like a headless chicken. Orders flying in from every direction. “One spritz! Two mojitos! A gin and tonic!” I’m like, “Can I get a break here?” But no, the crowd just keeps coming.

Murder in Abbiategrasso: Young Man Stabbed in Settling of Scores